Beyond the Stars
by Rose G
Summary: Aragorn had the gift to go at will. So when and why did he chose to pass from the circles of Middle Earth? Last chapter - a reunion with a vry special person.
1. Farewell

Beyond the Stars

Rose G

Disclaimer - These characters are property of Tolkien, and I have made no money from using them.

The King pushed his old horse into a stiff canter, feeling pain with every unlevel step the stallion took over the wide expanse of Pelannor Fields. The winters breeze blew their greying hair back beyond them, the cold shine of the remote stars called to them, the frost silvered grass and trees held them, binding them for now to the World, _Ea, _that they loved. And ahead of them lay death, waiting like a Warg after its prey, waiting to claim this Man that so loved life and the stallion that he rode.

Aragorn raised one weary hand up to his face, then dropped his hand to the bays neck, feeling the damp sweat of his horse. Anduril was slung at his side as ever, yet he saw that the blade was dull, the point blunted from wear. He felt cold, tired, almost - he admitted to himself - old. _Is this what all mortal men feel when they began to age, and how long does this feeling last, from when it begins to when death claims them? _

The old stallion, a distant descendant of Roheryn, stumbled forward on the icy ground, throwing Aragorn onto his neck, and the King saw the grey streaks in his mane, the white hairs on the muzzle of his steed. 'Poor old fellow, Haleryn. I know what you feel like. To live like this is agony indeed, to be trapped in Minas Tirith's towers and endless streets by winter and our age. Would I that I could ride again to Bree, to camp once more on the banks of the Brandywine, to drink Butterbur's ale with Halbarad and Gandalf in front the fire at the Prancing Pony. Why does any man long for a kingdom when this is what he wins?'

Sighing, he reined Haleryn in and loosed the horse, biding him to return when called or if he was not called, to return to Gondor or wherever he would, for his owner would have no further need of a horse, let alone an ageing stallion bred for him by Arwen as a war horse. For his owner, King of the Reunited Realms found now that he no longer wished to go to war even to protect his lands, as he felt that he had spent too many years in their service and now hated the security that the kingdom gave him.

Standing tall and silent in the centre of the Pelannor Fields that had never been built on as too many bodies lay there still, King Elessar watched the last sunlight fade from the sky and the stars raise and spin above him. Silver the stars were, silver the frosty grass about his feet, and black was all the rest of the world about him yet blackness more different to the choking shadows of Morgoth's and Sauron's reigns could not be envisioned. 

He turned stiffly to look at the stars reflected in a soak of water; their shaped teased and twisted by the wind. On this spot, so many yeas ago now, he had stood with Halbarad, Legolas, and Gimli, mounted on Roheryn. A ray of sunlight, he remembered, had touched them as they stood there with Halbarad's standard snapping overhead, and in that moment, he had felt the crown of Gondor on his head, seen Arwen walking beside him in Minas Tirith as his wife and heard Sauron's screams of despair. In that second, he had given up his identities of Strider the Ranger, of Estel, Elrond's son and become Elessar of Gondor. Here, he had had his last taste of the wild joy of freedom and the ecstasy of battle and it was here, he knew where he had to give up what he had loved so much.

The breeze whistled strongly for a moment, an eerie sound across the plain and carrying the soft sound of an Elven tread. Lost in memories and regrets, Aragorn sunk to the grass and buried his head in his hands, his thoughts drifting back to the last days in Gondor.

Merry_ and Pippin - How much I miss them two, troublemakers though they were. Never shall I forget Merry's face that day when Pippin swapped his ale for all water and earth, and that poor Halfling drunk it. And was it only a week before Pippin died that Merry fed his hill pony so many oats that it threw Pippin when he mounted? If only I could see them once again, I believe that I could almost forgive them for stealing my pipe-weed. _

Pippin had died only days before he had left Gondor, and with awful clarity, he could see recall couching alongside the hobbits bed, willing him to breath, to defeat the sickness and live, and he could remember himself calling out in grief even while attempting to comfort Merry. And in his heart, he had known even as he mounted Haleryn that Merry would not see him again. 

And_ Arwen, my beloved Evenstar who I will love unto the Last Battle and the very End of Days. How I brought myself to part from her I do not know. I believe she knows what I am doing for she has known my heart since first we met and the look in her eyes was that of parting. Oh Arwen, if only you could ever know how much I love you and how much I hate myself for making you give up the life of the Eldar. _

Again on the wind, he heard what sounded like an Elven tread and distracted from his grief and his fear of what was laying ahead of him, he glanced over the vast plain where he had come into his birthright. It was a clear night yet a cloud of mist shimmered near to him, and he shook his head; feeling clearly now the frustration of old age which meant he was unable to investigate the cloud.

Summoning his strength, he spoke aloud to himself, to Halbarad whose bones had bleached here and then enriched the earth, and to the memories, written in the wind, of all those that he had loved. His voice, for so long now shaky and weak was strong once more, telling of his joy in being alive, of being King of Gondor and of his great love for Arwen. 'To my ancestors long ago, you did give the gift of being able to depart in peace when so they may wish. If by my actions, you find me a worthy heir to the line of Elendil, then, Valar, it is soon indeed that I would wish to exercise your gift.' He bowed his head in a gesture of respect.

The mist seemed to cover him now, he realised, as though it had crept up when he was praying. It shimmered, seeming to be all shades at once, made of everything in Middle Earth and yet no more than an illusion. The Elven tread was very close, and a rough hand touched his shoulder.

'Well, Aragorn, it would seem that your time has come. Could you not have hurried more along the way, or were the inns of Gondor too inviting?' Halbarad spoke softly, mockingly. 'Are you ready to come with me now?'

'Yes.' Darkness flowed over the plain, the wreath or spirit of a man, and the body of the King. 

A/N - I know Halbarad isn't an Elf, but being a Ranger and a close kinsman to Aragorn, there's quite a chance he had picked up Elvish characteristics. 


	2. Meetings

Beyond the Stars Chapter 2

Rose G

A/N - I have done my best to give an impression of the Halls of Mandos, but Tolkien never described them clearly and I have added my own ideas, partly based on what I believe about an afterlife.

Aragorn shook his head uncomfortably, disliking the blackness around him. It was alive or so it seemed, faintly hostile, watchful and unwelcoming. It was a feeling he had once had while recovering from an almost fatal wound sustained in battle - a feeling of being lost in an endless wall of darkness that was possessed of awareness.

He spoke softly, reverting to his childhood belief that if he was still and silent, nothing harmful would see him and hurt him. 'Halbarad, what is this? How are you here?'

'This is death, Aragorn. We are in the Halls of Mandos. Soon your vision will return and you will see for yourself if you doubt my word. The darkness and the fear of it soon pass once you have left the World Made Round. You are beyond the stars now.'

'I can believe that, but how where you there on the Pelannor Fields when I heard your voice?'

'I was not there. You were afraid of the darkness, of dying, and you imagined that you heard me. I was not there because it is impossible. From here, there is no way back to Adara.'

Aragorn rose unsteadily to his feet, marvelling as his vision cleared; he saw a great city, greater than Minas Tirith, and the whole land seemed fair. The sky above was blue, although a light breeze caressed his hair and in the distance he heard a horse call. Beside him, Halbarad stood tall, his grim face pulled into a smile, and Aragorn realised that the other Ranger seemed younger than he had on that last day, and the scar on his cheek from a sword wound had gone. And he himself found that he could move without pain, that his hair blowing around his head was no longer grey, that he was young and fit again. 'Halbarad is this a vision or is this all real?'

'This is a land, Strider, a land as real as Valinor or Numenor or your beloved Shire. Everything is real, here. Life does not end but continues, without sickness or injury or tiredness. We do not know what will come at End of Days but until then we have a life like to that of the Firstborn.'

'All mortal beings or Man only?'

'All mortals, Aragorn. Man and Hobbits and Dwarves and the animals that belonged to them. When the Valar made the world, they did not intend for us to suffer. This is normal life unending for us - and I have waited long enough for you to arrive here.'

Aragorn looked around in wonder and was silent for a long while. 'Hobbits, you said?'

'Yes, and unless I am much mistaken, two of them are approaching. You may recognise them - at least I would hope so. I would have let you met them earlier, but I have waited for many years to see you again, and laugh at your efforts at running Gondor. Arwen had you wrapped round her little finger, didn't she? And I missed you.'

Aragorn nodded, for he had missed Halbarad desperately. Without speaking, he turned and embraced the man, remembering all the years they had spent together. And it was only when what sounded like a cavalry charge was bearing down on him that he moved and looked around, unable to stop himself from smiling.

'Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo...' His voice trailed away, sounding suprisingly weak while his smile grew larger. Emotions he could not begin to name welled up in his throat, and he brushed a hand over his stinging eyes. 

'Strider!' The hobbits swarmed around him, cheerful and irrepressible as ever. He was glad to see them again, but he couldn't help cringing whenever Pippin called him 'Strider' remembering the last council in Gondor where Pippin had yelled that name out in front of the kings of all the surrounding countries. 

It was only when he had stopped greeting them that he became aware of another presence, an almost brooding feeling, and he turned to see Boromir standing there. 'Hello, my king. It is good to see you.' Halbarad rolled his eyes, and Aragorn smiled. This was too special, too joyful to worry about Boromir.

And surrounded by hobbits, he walked into the Halls of Mandos.


	3. Love stronger than all

Beyond the Stars Chapter 3

Rose G

Halbarad glanced up at the taller man, again surprised by how different he was. Too many years in Gondor had greyed his hair, exhausted his spirit but now he seemed to be if not the young boy that Halbarad remembered from his own childhood, then at least the Ranger who had ridden alongside him for so many years. There was a companionable silence between the two; the sort of relaxed familiarity between old friends that might have seemed strange to the Hobbits, or even the Rohirriam, but to the reserved men of Gondor was as natural as breathing. 

All around them were the great weavings of everything that had ever happened; all life on Middle Earth represented there. Halbarad had long since stop wondering at this, but Aragorn looked at the depictings of Beren One-Hand, of Turin mastered by doom and Earendil the Mariner, the Downfall of Numenor; the tales of battles and war, of Gandalf the Grey, of the Ringbearer; of himself - the Renewer. Entranced, he could not stop looking. 

How long he looked, Halbarad grinning mockingly at him he did not know. Aragorn did not notice the ease with which he walked the freedom and spring of youth in all his muscles, his eyesight keener than he ever remembered it being. The surroundings seemed so profound that they answered every question that he had ever asked, or thought of. Apart from one…

'Halbarad, what lies beyond here? These halls, everything stretch out as far as even the Dunedain can see, but there is something else, isn't there?'

'The stars, Aragorn. Men go beyond the stars when they die and have left this place, or so it is said. I have no knowledge of how, or why, only that it will happen one day. More I cannot say; maybe you should have asked Elrond your father or Gandalf the Grey who died and was reborn. And maybe you could go and speak to the Hobbits before they completely derange poor Boromir.'

Smiling, Aragorn followed the other Ranger until a sudden movement over to the left caught his eye. Dropping one hand to his belt only to find that Narsil wasn't there, he walked towards it. Halbarad, who knew vaguely what this was followed, smiling. Again, the air stirred, the person moving out towards him and for an endless second he stood frozen, every muscle tense. Midnight hair blew back from his face, his cloak whipping in the air behind him. He looked every inch a king, a great ruler from over Sea.

'Arwen?' He mouthed the name, then repeated it. 'Arwen!' His voice sung with joy, and Halbarad tactfully went in search of the Hobbits himself. There was all eternity for talking to Aragorn - this minute belonged to the lovers. Arwen smiled at her husband, touching his face with one hand. 'Hello, Estel. A wanderer in death as in life, but I found you again.'

Aragorn felt her lips brush his in the softest of kisses, their hearts beating as one and he could not tell how long the moment lasted. Dead and beyond the stars he might be; his proud body rotting in Pelannor Fields with Gondor in his sons hands, but Aragorn had never been happier. 


End file.
